Ladies and gelatin, it has been a heady couple of weeks. Let me get you lot up to speed with things:

In the process of lifting my lazy affictitious Russian one Saturday evening in late September, I did something unpleasant to my back, to the point where I was in excruciating pain for about a week and a half. This is the thing that kills me: I’ve lifted Sidore (just under 100 lbs from 2000 to 2010, now down to 78 lbs) thousands of times over the course of 13+ years, with no ill effects, but the one time I have a go at lifting Elena (57 lbs), something goes wrong. Really, what are the odds?

Due to my injury, I took the week off work. I saw my GP… well actually, I had to see the other GP who shares the clinic with my GP, and after determining that I had a herniated disk, she gave me some cyclobenzaprine, which is a muscle relaxant, and some prescription-level ibuprofen, both of which did the business. When I went back to work after my week of cursing this ineffective meat body, my job laid me off on the 30th. It wasn’t to do with my injury, but work had been extraordinarily slow for a couple of months prior to me fucking up my back; when I returned, one of my coworkers was doing my job, but saying there was nothing for him to do. However, at the very least, I was laid off, not fired; my boss told me with his own mouth that as soon as things picked back up, he’d give me a call. So there’s that. Thankfully, I’m collecting unemployment, though…

You’d think it’d be nice to take advantage and get caught up on things in the absence of a day-to-day job, right? Get some reading in, start and finish building any model kits that need to be assembled, that sort of thing? Well, yes and no. Fellow iDollator Everhard summed it up pretty well in a recent Email to me:

Being unemployed really is a full time job that leaves no energy for the creative things. I have plenty of experience with that. You need proper freedom of time and effort to achieve worthwhile things. Even when you attain that state, or something approximating it, it seems to take a while to get acclimatised to it. Old habits die hard.

Instead of digitising all those pieces that I’d recorded as Wreath.VCA onto cassette tape years ago, or scanning all those print photographs I’d taken over the years, I’m spending my time seeking work online, or sleeping, or catching up on telly shows that I’ve been wanting to see for a while — the first two eps of The Owl Service are good, then it kinda gets bogged down in a Young Adult Fiction vibe, but the last episode is basically The Exorcist, and Children of the Stones is like The Prisoner crossed with ‘The Wicker Man’, and its last episode wouldn’t be out of place during Pertwee’s run on Doctor Who — or compulsively checking my websites. A large part of it, I think, is if I weren’t so concerned about trying to find ‘gainful’ employment, I could relax a lot more…

Apart from the idle distractions I’ve been engaged in, I’ve also been busy either accepting or deflecting loads of media appearances, brought on by Julie Beck’s article about me in the Atlantic! A few days after my back felt well enough for me to not spend 23 1/2 hours in bed per day, I’d received enquiries from two separate radio chat shows — one in Vancouver, the other in Australia, as well as some bloke working for Barcroft Media who mentioned eventually selling my segment to Dr Phil, and a writer who wanted to publish her article in Cosmopolitan, but had ties to the iDollator-hating feminazi site Jezebel. Obviously I’d said No to all of those, as if they didn’t look insubstantial or derisive, they seemed like too much of a risk.
What I’d said Yes to, though, was a fun and in-depth two-hour interview via Skype on 16th October with Maya Docha, a freelance reporter/writer, and a five and a half hour interview by Roc Morin, who entered Deafening silence Plus of his own free will on the 28th of this month. Maya struck me as funny and insightful, and the fact that she’d spoken with the Kinsey Institute means she was looking to do more than a puff piece, and when Roc and I weren’t discussing Dolls, Gynoids, and the past and future of artificial companions, he was telling me hilarious/unsettling anecdotes about his trip to North Korea a few years ago. Neither one of their pieces are published yet, so hold your horses; you’ll know when I know.
And to top it off, on the 26th and 27th of October, Shi-chan, Lenka, and I were filmed by a telly crew working for RTL Germany! We’re due to appear in a segment of a programme called Explosiv, which looks like… a show on telly. Most pop culture news shows look alike to me. It was an experience involving a bit of a drive out and about, digging for soundbites, and last-minute planning. Loads of last-minute planning. Every single one of us will have the final product to look forward to in the next couple of weeks, so hold your horses; you’ll know when I know.

Lenka, still unsure about the whole ‘being on telly’ thing; Shi-chan, showing off a prezzie from Mr Morin purchased in Pyongyang, North Korea

At the very least, our appearance on Explosiv will have a number of firsts: it’ll be the first time an Anatomical Doll has been on non-Russian television, as it’ll also be Elena’s first foray into being on telly, and the segment will possibly show her first trip with me out of doors! We went to a cemetery, which should surprise absolutely no-one. Lenka found the cemetery thing to be wonderful — any time you can be outside without being harassed by people is always fantastic — but she’s still shy when it comes to being displayed on other peoples’ telly screens. ‘It’s not all that bad,’ Shi-chan had reassured her. Onwards and outwards!

A number of weeks ago, one of the Missus’ tumblr friends left this in her Ask box:

Sidore agreed that, were it not for the fact that I’m currently on the dole, it’d be a hell of an idea. Maybe since we can’t actually dress the part for this year’s Hallowe’en, perhaps some keen and generous artist could draw us as the aforementioned Blade runner characters, hint hint?
Just so you know, I nearly typed ‘Blade rubber’ there. Really, what are the odds?